


Snapshots

by Natalya



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Friendship, Guilt, Love, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-War, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-War, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1277254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natalya/pseuds/Natalya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots throughout the lives of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes - from their boyhood in Brooklyn through to the present day.  Each age is its own mini-title.  Coming together, war, death, coming back together once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snapshots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KiyannaWhite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiyannaWhite/gifts).



> Gifted to KiyannaWhite for putting up with all of my Stucky nonsense... :)

**Thirteen**

Two boys sat side by side on old, scuffed wooden chairs.  One of them smaller, a skinny child with blond hair, blue eyes, one circled by a rapidly darkening bruise, blood dripping from his nose onto his shirt, while the other was bigger, dark haired with grey eyes that still held a spark of anger, hands still clenched into fists, knuckles grazed and still bleeding.  In front of them Sister Mary Catherine stood, arms folded, a stern expression on her face as she looked at the two of them.  “What do you have to say for yourselves?”  She asked, her foot tapping against the old, worn boards of the floor.  

Steve shrugged.  “It wasn’t Bucky’s fault.”  He stated, voice holding a hint of defiance as he looked up at the Sister, who raised one eyebrow at him.  “It wasn’t Bucky’s fault, Sister.”  He amended, glancing across at Bucky.  

 “Steve didn’t do anything wrong.”  Stated Bucky, frowning at Steve who was shaking his head vehemently.  

 “I started the fight.”  Said Steve, sitting up straighter, swiping the back of his hand across his still dripping nose.  

“Oh for goodness sake, both of you.”  Sister Mary Catherine shook her head as she looked between them, trying hard to keep a stern look on her face.  She couldn’t help it, she had a soft spot for the two boys and she knew exactly what would have happened.  Steve would have seen one of the younger ones being bullied, he would have stood up for them, then when he started to lose the fight, Bucky would have stepped in to defend him.  It was something that had played out over and over.  “Go and get cleaned up, and quickly.  We’re leaving for Mass in ten minutes and if you are not both in a fit state to be seen in church you will be scrubbing the floors in the dormitory for a week.  Now, go on, be off with you both.”  

Steve and Bucky glanced at each other before getting up, hurrying away, Bucky shoving a wadded up tissue from his pocket at Steve who pressed it to his face.  “You’re an idiot…”  He muttered.  

“I couldn’t do nothing.”  Retorted Steve, blue eyes bright with indignation.  “I’m not gonna sit back and watch the little kids getting beat on.”  

Bucky sighed.  “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re not.  C’mon punk we gotta get goin’.”  

“Jerk.”  Replied Steve with a grin behind the tissue as they ran up the stairs to the dormitory, changing at speed, washing their faces and hands in the freezing cold water that poured out of the creaking, protesting taps.

** Fifteen **

The streets were covered with snow, deep banks pushed up on the sidewalks, the spaces in between filled with slushy puddles and grey, gritty ice.  The sky above was dark and clouded, no stars showing, more snow threatening to start coming down.  The streets were mostly empty, the only people around those hurrying to night shifts, and those going to midnight mass.  It was Christmas Eve, and the city of New York was quiet, a strange peace descending over the usually bustling streets.  A crocodile of young boys, ranging in age from sixteen down to three or four made their way along the sidewalk, heading for the church.  

Steve walked through the door with Bucky at his side, letting Bucky pull him away from the rest of the boys, into the shadows near the entrance of the church, unnoticed by the Sisters who were accompanying them there.  The church was lit only by candles and the shadows were deep, black and velvety, almost a tangible thing. Bucky grinned, bright and sharp in the darkness, and Steve nodded, the two of them waiting for the rest of the orphans to be seated before they left the shadows and found themselves a place on the hard pews at the back of the church.  

The pews filled up and they ended up sandwiched between other people, crammed together, thick coats on either side of them, providing extra warmth that they would not have otherwise have had.  One of the many tricks they had learnt over the years.  

For a few moments they sat there quietly.  Bucky watched as Steve fiddled with the prayer book, his sensitive artist’s fingers worrying at a torn corner of the cover.  His attention was taken by the beginning of the hymns, and he and Steve stood up with the rest of the crowd, dutifully singing the carols, their voices lower now than a few years ago, filled with more assurance.  As they sang Bucky glanced down at Steve, seeing the pure faith in his expression that Bucky wasn’t sure he had anymore.  He felt an overwhelmingly fierce urge to protect him, to stop him from losing that whatever the world threw at them.  

Steve felt Bucky’s gaze on him and looked up with a grin as the hymn finished and the first prayer started.  They dropped to their knees onto the prayer cushions, heads bowed, shoulder to shoulder.  The scent of the wood of the pews, the perfume of one of the matrons next to them, the dust and the cloying aroma of the incense surrounded them in the shadows and Steve gritted his teeth for a moment, screwing his courage to the sticking place.  

He reached out between them, the motion hidden by how close their bodies were pressed together in the pews, taking Bucky’s hand in his.  He felt Bucky freeze for an instant and there was a sudden constriction in his chest before he felt Bucky’s hand squeezing his back, holding on as they knelt there together in the darkness of the pew.  The words around them washed over them, losing meaning as they discovered something else together.  

Nothing was mentioned when they returned to the orphanage that night.  Neither mentioned it again.  

** Seventeen **

The heat was almost unbearable.  The air was completely still and the sun that had beaten down all day had left the streets like an oven.  The sky above was a deep, clear and cloudless blue, while the sun was beginning to slowly sink lower but still held a lot of heat in the late afternoon.  Bucky and Steve had left the orphanage earlier that year, had managed to find an apartment to share together, a tiny little box of a place, but it was their place.  

Steve managed to bring in money selling his drawings to local newspapers, while Bucky ran any and all odd jobs he could, taking on the more physical labour that Steve couldn’t.  It didn’t matter what each of them did, just as long as the rent was paid each month.  The winter had been hard, Steve as sick as a dog with a fever that had scared the hell out of Bucky if he had been able to admit it and had left Steve cursing himself vehemently.    

Now though it was summer with all the heat that it brought, the warmth that seemed to soak through them both.  The apartment was stuffy and airless, suffocating, so Steve had climbed up onto the roof from the fire escape, armed with his sketchpad, a note left for Bucky for whenever he got in from work.  It was peaceful up on the roof, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, the sounds of the streets still rising up, but giving him distance.   

The sound of a rattling from the old fire escape made Steve look up from his sketchpad, a smile blossoming on his face as Bucky pulled himself up over the ledge and onto the roof, strolling over with his familiar loose, easy stride.  He looked tired, hot and sweaty, a smear of grime on one cheek, but he was smiling enough, holding out a brown paper bag that made the clinking of glass on glass as he sat down next to Steve, stretching his legs out in front of him.  

“What’s that?”  Asked Steve, pushing his pad to one side, seeing the grin broaden on Bucky’s lips.  

“Just something I got from one of the guys at the warehouse.  His wife brews it at home.  S’cold, been kept on ice for a while.”  He said, pulling out a couple of bottles of beer, prizing the caps off before handing one to Steve who gave him an appreciative nod.  

Condensation was running down the outside of the bottles trickling over their fingers.  Bucky took a long swallow, exhaustion from the long day beginning to melt out of him in the heat of the sun.  Steve couldn’t help watching the way that Bucky’s lips closed around the neck of the bottle, his mind flashing back to those few moments in the church over two years ago.  He shook his head slightly, taking a long pull on his own beer, looking back out across the horizon.  

They stayed there, talking quietly about everything and nothing, until as the sun continued to sink lower they lapsed into a comfortable, companionable silence.  Bucky put his beer down, the empty bottle tipping over with a clatter.  He glanced at it but ignored it, looking across instead at Steve, highlighted in the setting sun.  What he was thinking, he knew that he shouldn’t be, knew that whatever happened from his point, was everything they had been taught not to do, not to accept.  But he couldn’t damn well help himself.  Steve was something else.  It wasn’t just the way that he looked, and damn, those blue eyes that Bucky knew he could lose himself in, it was something about his stubborn, fierce spirit that wouldn’t let him back down from a damn thing.  

Bucky felt a twisting of fear in his chest as he moved slightly, leaning forward, looking at Steve.  Steve looked straight back, seeing something that looked almost like a challenge in Bucky’s eyes, grinned broadly in return, the pair of them meeting in the middle, lips coming together.  It wasn’t sweet, and it wasn’t pretty, it was needy and it was rough and it was messy because neither really knew what the hell they were doing.  But it was perfect and it was theirs and they could taste beer and sweat and the flavour of summer.  

When they broke apart they were both grinning broadly, pupils blown, breathing harder.  Steve swallowed.  “We can’t tell anyone.”  He said with a hint of anger behind his words that Bucky couldn’t help but understand.  

“Nah.  We don’t need to though Stevie, this is ours, right?”

“You and me against the world again?”  

Bucky threw back his head and laughed.  “Shoulder to shoulder.”  He replied, staring out across the city, feeling suddenly drunk and he knew it had nothing to do with the single beer they’d each had.  This was them, their city, they were together in this and that was all that damn well mattered.  

They could both keep a secret, cover it up, they could keep this for them and them alone.  

** Twenty Four **

Their secret was still safe.  Bucky’s reputation as a ladies man saw to that.  Sometimes Steve didn’t mind.  Other times he did, but Bucky knew that, made damn sure he let Steve know that the girls meant nothing to him.  

His reputation kept them safe.  

Steve looked up as Bucky came in.  They’d talked about this again and again, talked about the war that was happening in Europe, talked about the fact that the US had now joined.  It was all that anyone ever seemed to talk about nowadays.  So many men were shipping out, so many were ready and willing to lay down their lives for the cause, to serve a purpose.  Whether through a sense of duty or dreams of glory, they were enlisting.  

He and Bucky had agreed that they would do the same, despite the fact that he had pretty much known that he would be turned down.  There was always that hope, that need to try.  He’d gone earlier on that day while Bucky was working a late shift at the warehouse, had been practically laughed out of the place.  He had left the place with hot anger and shame burning on his cheeks, had stalked home through the streets and had ended up back at the apartment, turning the card over and over in his hands, looking each time at the grading.  4F.  He wasn’t going to war.  Wasn’t going to do his bit.  He had no right to do less than any other man.   

The sound of the door opening made him look up just as Bucky walked in.  

Steve looked at him, seeing already the expression on his face, somewhere between pride and fear, just a hint of it in his eyes.  Nobody else would have noticed it, but Steve couldn’t miss it.  “They accepted you?”  

“Yeah.  Yeah they did.  I’m goin’ to war Stevie.”  Replied Bucky with a nod, a slightly crooked smile tugging at his lips.  He was ready for it, he wanted to do it, there wasn’t anything else he could do.  It was his duty same as everyone else, just like he and Steve had talked about.  He saw the card in Steve’s hands, slightly crumpled at the edges, suddenly noticed the set look on Steve’s face and shook his head.  They had both known deep down that he was going to be refused, but seeing it there, written down, that really drove it home.  

They were going to be separated.  By an ocean and a war and things that could never be taken back or changed.  There were no guarantees that Bucky would ever come back and he knew that, Steve knew that.  

Steve shrugged.  “I failed.  They didn’t want me.”

“We knew that.”  Retorted Bucky, going to sit next to him on the bed.  

“I’m gonna try again.  Different name, different office.”  

Bucky shook his head.  “If they catch you…”  

“I gotta try, Buck.  I can’t, I can’t not do this.  You understand.”  

Bucky sighed, shaking his head slightly.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  I get it.”  He replied, pulling the card away from Steve, screwing it up, tossing it into the corner of the apartment.  “Let’s just forget it for tonight, huh?”  

“Sure.”  Replied Steve with a nod, looking at the card that had been thrown away, looking at Bucky again, seeing the look in his grey eyes, that look enough to remind Steve that now their time was limited, that there would only be weeks before Bucky would be shipping out for training, before they were separated.  He didn’t honestly think that he would be able to enlist.  He’d keep trying, do everything that he damn well could, but deep down, there was the doubt as to whether he would ever be accepted.  

Now their time together took on a new nuance of desperation, a need to get as much of each other as they could before Bucky left.  Steve pushed Bucky down on the bed, one hand on his chest, claiming Bucky’s lips with is own, fingers working to undo the shirt he wore.  

**Twenty Four**

Their last night together had been the night before the Stark Expo.  They had agreed that as soon as they had the date Bucky would be leaving.  Both tacitly understood that in some way it would be easier without dragging out farewells.  They had a normal night together, if tainted by a strange melancholy, they had eaten together, teased each other, fallen into their usual patterns, had taken each other with unlooked for tenderness, then had woken in the morning knowing that the next night Bucky would be gone and Steve would be alone.  

Steve had ended up instead in a training camp, accepted just as he had always wanted to be.  Except there was no Bucky to tell about it, he was already on his way across the sea, somewhere in the mid Atlantic.  He knew that it wouldn’t be easy, but he didn’t give a damn.  The other guys there didn’t take him seriously save for the scientist, Erskine, and the only one who seemed to was a beautiful firebrand of a dame called Peggy.   

It hadn’t been easy but that didn’t matter to him.  He was going to do whatever he could to prove himself, to be able to make a difference, to get shipped out.  He would succeed, he was determined in that, there was no room for him to fail.  He could keep up with the others and he could go to war and he could do his bit just like everyone else. 

Except things didn’t quite work out the way that he had planned.  

He became a new man, became someone that he didn’t always recognise when he looked in the mirror, not straight away, not for quite some time.  It filled him with new hope though.  He could make more of a difference than he had ever thought that he could.  He could live up to Erskine’s hopes for him, could do good in the world with the gift that he had been given.  

Then his only real friend left for Europe, Peggy boarding a ship even as he was sent out on the USO tour, selling war bonds.  Every show left him hating himself more.  Every time he walked out on that stage all he could think about were the men fighting in the mud, struggling on even as he stood on a stage surrounded by beautiful women, feeling more and more hopeless and angry even as he smiled and punched Hitler over and over and over a-goddamn-gain.  

He had no idea where Bucky was, didn’t know where the 107th were stationed.  He tried writing a few times but there was only so much he could say in letters that he knew would be intercepted and read.  He doubted very much that any of them ever made it to him anyway.  The weeks and months passed by and although outwardly he seemed no different, played his part as well as he could, doing his damn best no matter what hand he’d been dealt, he could feel himself slipping into abject misery.   

When he finally made it overseas, he didn’t blame the men who booed him and jeered at him for so much as a minute.  He was nothing but a performing monkey, a complete joke.  He was pathetic compared to them, they who had suffered so much, where he who had the capacity for suffering beyond their measure, he who had been made for this, performed on a stage in front of them, almost a mockery of everything that they had done.  

Then Peggy found him and he felt as though he was ready to sink into the ground.  Until she told him what had happened.  Told him that the 107th had been captured, that many of them were missing.  He felt something snap inside him at that moment.  

**Twenty Four**

Bucky closed his eyes, wondering vaguely even as he did whether he would ever open them again.  He was beginning to think that he didn’t care.  Voices speaking harshly in German flowed around him, staccato and painful to his overly sensitive ears.  He understood a few of the words, but not enough, not enough to know what they wanted with him.  He didn’t understand anything really, not in those moments, not beyond the fact that every sense was heightened, the bright lights harsh, colours swirling around the edges of his vision whenever he opened his eyes and tried to focus on anything.   

His skin felt as though it was on fire, straps cutting into him whenever he struggled.  Then they’d dose him again with some chemical and he could feel his world turning to fire, fighting to keep his mouth shut, to keep quiet, to give nothing away.   He knew that he was talking utter nonsense because they would do things to him that had him screaming until his voice cracked, until the screaming just became noise that surrounded him.    

He refused to break.  

He couldn’t help but think that Steve would never have given in, and the thought made him laugh, even as blood welled up between his lips and he half choked. They cleaned away the blood then left him.

He didn’t think he would survive.  Others before him had gone into those rooms and he had seen the bodies being carried out, shells of the men that they had been before.  He swallowed, eyes remaining closed and he could hear a voice mumbling, wondered vaguely who it was until he realised it was his own, he thought it was his own.  He didn’t know, not really.  

Then another voice came through the fog. 

A voice that he knew so goddamn well that he knew  it couldn’t be real.  

He forced his eyes open to find out what fresh hell he’d ended up in, only to see Steve there, only he was bigger, he was…

Steve stared at Bucky, feeling flood of relief and horror pouring through him, seeing the complete confusion in Bucky’s face.  “It’s me.  It’s Steve.”  He said, pulling the straps away that pinned him down, feeling a choking horror at what had been done to him.   

“Steve?”   

The utter confusion in Bucky’s voice felt like a knife twisting in his gut but there wasn’t time to think about it.  They had to get out of there.  “Come on.”  

“Steve.”  The confusion was still there, realisation dawning that it was real, that Steve was there with him, rescuing him, that he wasn’t alone, that Steve had come for him against everything, somehow.  

“I thought you were dead.”  Steve could feel the words torn from him, trying to communicate the horror that he had felt when he had found out what had happened to the 107th.  

He threw his arm round Bucky, helping him as they began to stumble from the room.  They had to get out there was no time to do anything else.  No time for reunions.  No time for anything except an escape.  

Bucky choked back a laugh that he knew if he let it out would be almost hysterical.  “I thought you were smaller.”  He felt as much as heard the laugh that ran through Steve’s frame, bigger now than he was.  Whatever had happened he didn’t give a damn.  They were both there, both still alive and that was the thing that truly mattered.  

They still needed to escape.  

“Come on.”  Steve’s voice cut through the fog that surrounded Bucky’s mind, beginning to clear it as he began to slowly get control back.  

“What happened to you?”   

“I joined the army.” 

They carried on through the base, Bucky feeling adrenaline taking over, forcing out the last effects of the drugs that they had been using on him as they went, regaining control on the way.  Then they were face to face with Schmidt and he could feel nothing but anger and utter horror as he revealed himself for what he was.    

The room was hot, blazingly so, fire and explosions reigning supreme as Schmidt made his escape, as Steve and Bucky were left together to find their own way out, to get to safety.  Bucky could feel the metal giving way beneath his feet as he made his way across the makeshift bridge, could feel the intense, searing heat rising up, pulling at him, and then the metal was going, and there was no more time so he ran and he leaped and he hoped for the goddamn best because he didn’t want to die, didn’t want Steve to watch him die.   

Steve felt his heart his his mouth as he watched Bucky scrambling to safety.  There would be another way out.  He would find another way out.  He would manage it somehow.  Bucky was safe.  He felt another surge of overwhelming relief even as he looked around for an escape.  He could get out.  He would get out.

Bucky stared at him, feeling horror rushing through him.  The bridge was gone, Steve was stranded on the other side.  The guy he had always sworn to protect and there was nothing he could goddamn do.  “There’s gotta be a rope or something.”  His words he knew were futile, knew there was no rope, was just buying a few moments because he knew what Steve was going to say.   

“Just go!  Get outta here!”  Steve’s voice held a note of desperation, he knew it, could hear it, knew that Bucky would hear it too.  Couldn’t hide a damn thing from him.  He would find another way out.  There would be something, somehow.   

Bucky stared at him, feeling fury rising up through him, determination.  “Not without you!”  The words were torn from him, a promise as much as anything else.  He would not go on without him, not again.  It was them against the world and he would march through hell for Steve but there was no way he was going to leave him behind.   

Steve knew it.

He took a deep breath, bent back the bars, so thankful for his new strength, then made the leap, grabbing the bars in front of Bucky, feeling his strong hands pulling him over as they both landed in a heap on the metal gangway.  Bucky looked at him, really looked at him, then shook his head, pulling him into a savage kiss. 

He could taste sweat, blood and metal, could taste Bucky.  Nothing else mattered at that moment as the world erupted around them.  Bucky felt Steve’s hands on his back, pulling him closer, one of his own hands on the back of Steve’s collar, the other on his hip.  He didn’t give a damn what body Steve was in, it was still Steve.  Still the man he’d been in love with before he even know what the hell love even really was.   

They marched back to the camp together.   

Side by side.   

Both of them had changed in ways that there was no reversing, but they were still there, shoulder to shoulder, still there together in all the ways that mattered most.  

**Twenty Five**

Together they cut a swathe through Europe.   

The men that followed Steve were good men, loyal to him, to their cause.  They were crazy sons of bitches and they were the family that Steve and Bucky had never had.   

The Howling Commandos.   

They destroyed Hydra bases, their movements officially sanctioned by nobody, their very existence something that was not spoken about.  Whether history remembered or forgot them didn’t matter to any of them.  They were doing what needed to be done and that was the most important thing.  

They were deep in the forest of the Ardennes, snow on the ground, camp made for the night.  They were miles from anywhere officially, but they all knew that that didn’t mean a damn thing, not with those they were pursuing.  Bucky yawned as he crawled into the tent that he and Steve shared, his two hour watch over.  He shook Steve awake, watching with a slight smile curving his lips at the brief flicker of confusion that crossed Steve’s face before he realised where he was.  

“Come on sleeping beauty, time for you to freeze your ass off.”  He said with a low chuckle.

“Jerk.”  Replied Steve without heat, rubbing his hands over his face as he sat up and rolled out of his sleeping bag.  “I’m up.  Anything to report?”  

“Not a damn thing except my frozen extremities.  You had better have made that nice and toasty for me.”  

Steve rolled his eyes as Bucky kicked off his boots and tossed his coat and gloves aside, along with his scarf before going and sitting beside him on the sleeping bag.  Steve nodded.  “Yeah it’s warm.”  

Bucky grinned, grabbing him by his shoulders, pulling him in for a quick kiss, shoving his icy hands up Steve’s shirt, splaying his fingers wide against Steve’s stomach, laughing as Steve jumped backwards, swearing up a storm.  “If  people only knew what a foul goddamn mouth Captain America has…”  

“Shut up and get some sleep, Buck.”   

Bucky shrugged and rolled over, pulling the flap of the sleeping back over himself, revelling in the remaining heat.  “Serum turned you into a damn oven.”  

“It helps.  See you in a coupla hours.”  Replied Steve, pulling on his clothes and boots before ducking out of the flap of the tent, heading out for his own watch.   

Bucky smirked and turned over, closing his eyes, willing sleep to come.  He knew that when it did it tended to come with nightmares of the Hydra camp, of the torture.  The nightmares were beginning to fade, but they still woke him in a cold sweat.  Knowing Steve was there helped, someone so utterly familiar that his scent alone meant that he couldn’t possibly be there, that it was just his mind playing tricks on him.  He pressed his face against the sleeping bag, taking a slow breath in.  

They were both pretty sure the other Commandos knew about them, but they still kept two sleeping bags in their tent, still kept separate in front of anyone else.  They knew damn well that they couldn’t officially be together.  Steve sat in the cold, looking out into the darkness, alert, shield at the ready.  He thought about him and Bucky, thought about Peggy.  He cared about her, of course he did, but not in the way he loved Bucky.  She was a front as much as Bucky’s women had been and that thought made him feel slightly sick.  He didn’t want to have to do that, wondered whether she realised.  She was as sharp as hell, most likely she did.  He thought about what would happen when the war was over, what they would do.  Probably have to marry, live close to each other, but never in the way that they wanted.  Society wouldn’t let them.  The thoughts made a burst of anger run through him at the injustice.  What they had was just as good as any  man and woman could have between them.  What the hell did it matter that they were two men?  

Resolutely he thrust the thoughts out of his mind as his watch ended and he crawled back into the tent with Bucky, shoving him over to make space for him to curl up next to him.  There wasn’t much point in making plans for the future.  They were in the middle of a war.  The next day could be their last.  

Bucky half woke up as Steve squashed into the sleeping bag with him, gave Steve a kick.  “Quit hoggin’ the room, punk.”  

“Jerk.”  Steve Mumbled as pressed his lips to the back of Bucky’s neck.  

“You got it.”  Retorted Bucky, as they both shifted so that Steve had his back to Bucky, Bucky tossing one arm across his waist, the position comfortable and easy.  

After the war could wait.  

**Twenty Six**

The air is bitterly cold on the side of the mountain, the zip wire set up ready to take them down to drop on the roof of the train.  It’s not the most ridiculous thing that either of them have done.  It’s becoming a habit more than anything else for the Commandos to at least attempt the impossible and the insane.  They’ve made quite a reputation by pulling it off.  

Bucky moved a couple of paces towards the edge of the precipice they stood on to take his place by Steve, looking down the length of the wire to where it crossed the tracks.  “Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island?”  He asked, voice casual, pushing down any other emotion.  

“Yeah, and I threw up?”  Replied Steve, following Bucky’s gaze, tamping down the apprehension that he felt even as he did.  What they were attempting was audacious.  The safety of the men was his responsibility.  This was his command and they were trusting him.  Bucky he knew was being a welcome distraction.  

“This isn’t payback is it?”

Steve glanced up, checking the top of the wire, reassuring himself it was fixed in place.  “Now why would I do that?”  He asked, hearing the soft huff of laughter from Bucky, almost inaudible, snatched away on the wind.  

Then it was time to go.  

There was no room for hesitation.  

Steve clipped his line onto the zip wire and went, Bucky following directly after him.  The rush of icy air took their breath away, the adrenaline beginning to flow, driving out any thoughts of fear, any doubts.  They were committed to this and there was no turning back, not now.  They dropped down onto the roof of the train, ran along until they reached the ladder, climbed down, entered into sudden blissful silence, broken only by the rattle of the trains wheels on the tracks, a welcome change from the howling wind that had torn at them outside.  

They moved as one, silent and smooth.  They knew exactly what they had to do.  Steve glanced back at Bucky for an instant, and for a second it looked to Bucky as though he was about to say something, instead he just gave him a speaking look and they continued.  Steve went through the door between the carriages first, Bucky on his six, checking behind them as they went.  

The doors slamming shut was the first hint they had that something had gone terribly wrong.  

Bucky saw Steve’s face for a split second before  he heard the sound of someone entering the carriage behind him.  There was no time to do anything save react, training and instincts taking over as the enemy advanced through the carriage.  They couldn’t come more than two at a time.  If he could hold them off he could get back to Steve, they could complete the mission together.  If he couldn’t finish them off, the least he could do would be to keep them busy for long enough to let Steve complete the mission, even if it was his life that he gave in the process.  

The harsh staccato sound of gunfire was amplified in the enclosed space, and he ducked down behind cases contained what he guessed to be weapons of some kind.  He dropped his rifle down, out of ammo, pulling out his revolver as he paused, waited for a few seconds.  He could hear a strange whine and explosions coming from the other carriage and cursed under his breath.   

Steve felt a harsh satisfaction as he laid out the Hydra agent, using the gun to blast through the first door, the main seal, looked through the window to gauge the situation.  Saw Bucky out of ammo, crouched down behind the ammo cases.  He elbowed the release to the door, saw the flash of surprise on Bucky’s face, gave him a nod and tossed him the revolver.  He knew that he didn’t have to say anything, knew that Bucky would instinctively know what he was going to do.  They knew each other inside out, knew how the other thought, how they fought, knew how to be efficient and how to use a wordless plan.  

Steve came through the door, slamming his shield into one of the boxes, Bucky rising to his feet in a fluid motion, taking the shot without hesitation as the Hydra goon dodged away.  The man dropped and he and Bucky had a moment of breathing space.  

“I had him on the ropes.”  Said Bucky, totally deadpan and Steve couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that threatened to escape at the ridiculousness of the situation.  

“I know you did.”  He replied, feeling the amusement still there.   

Until a familiar whine broke through the moment.  

They turned as one to see the Hydra agent Steve had thought was done standing in the doorway weapons charging.

His mistake.  

His miscalculation.  

He had a second to get his shield up, thrust Bucky behind him before the blast hit them both, throwing them backwards, leaving a gaping hole in the side of the carriage where it had deflected off the shield and him stunned on the floor at the side of the carriage.  In that moment Steve thought that it might well be the end of him.  He was unprotected and vulnerable.  Until he saw what Bucky was doing and felt his heart leap into his mouth.  

Bucky saw Steve down, forced himself to his feet, weapon drawn, picking up the shield.  He was down to only a couple of shots left, and they weren’t going to do a damn thing against the Hydra goon, and he knew it.  Knew that the shield was all but useless without Steve’s strength behind it.  None of that mattered though because he could be a distraction and that should buy Steve enough time to get up, to save himself.  Because he always swore he’d protect him.  No matter how big or small Steve was.  That was one thing he was not going to give up on.  

The shot hit him like a juggernaut, flinging him backwards out through the gaping hole in the side of the train and it was only his instinctive reactions that save him, his hands closing on the metal railing, clinging on for dear life.  

Steve saw what Bucky was doing, knew that he was doing it to save him, knew that it was almost certainly a lethal move and could do nothing to stop him.  He scrambled to his feet as the shot went off, as he saw Bucky disappear.  Mind numbing fear and horror gripped him as he grabbed the shield, adrenaline surging as he loosed it, taking out the Hydra agent for the second time before covering the space to the side of the train.  

“Bucky!”  The word ripped itself from his throat as he saw Bucky hanging there, and he felt a sudden relief, Bucky was still there, still clinging on.  He began climbing out of the train, shifting along the torn metal.  “Hang on!”

Bucky looked up, seeing Steve coming closer, holding out his hand, stretching.  He gritted his teeth, shifting his hands on the railing, moving closer.  Heard Steve’s voice above the roaring wind telling him to grab his hand.  The air rushing by tore at him, pulling him back and he could feel his arms burning with the strain.  He forced himself onwards, feeling the metal suddenly give.  

There was an instant when he looked at Steve’s face, saw the anguish there, knew that there was no way that he would make it.  He didn’t regret it for a damn second.  His only regret was leaving Steve to fight on alone.  The rending shriek of metal melded with Steve’s shout.   

“No!”  The pain in that single word was wrenched out of Steve, searing out from his soul in a gout of agonised fire.  

Bucky’s shout as he fell echoed in his ears and all he could do was watch as his best friend, his lover, the love of his goddamn life plummeted down into a frozen ravine.  He closed his eyes, clinging to the side of the train, pressing his head against the icy metal as pain that he had never known before racked his body, his mind, tore him apart.  

He was alone.  

It was his fault.  

Bucky was gone.  

**Twenty Six**

Steve had thrown himself into the work still harder after Bucky had gone.  

There was a hollow, empty space within him where Bucky should have been, one that went deeper than just a man who had lost a friend.  He had lost the other half of himself, it felt as though a part of his soul had been torn away and all he had left was the war and the fight and what he was supposed to do.  

Who he was supposed to be.   

The only person who seemed to understand fully was Peggy.   But then she’d always been the sharp one.  She loved him, he knew that, and he cared about her.  He knew that even as time passed, he would not love her, could not.  It felt as though the ability had been seared from him when Bucky plummeted into the ravine.  

He played a part.  

Still could not let anyone know what had been between he and Bucky, couldn’t tell anybody about what they had shared, couldn’t let it taint Bucky’s memory in other people’s minds. He was a hero as far as the people who knew him were concerned.   

When he got behind the controls on the plane he knew what he had to do.  Knew with a certainty that was almost a relief.  He wouldn’t survive this, that much he was certain of, and with that thought there came a certain peace, a certain knowledge that he was sacrificing himself for a much greater cause, for something that he truly believed in.  He could and he would make a difference. 

He hated the tears he could hear in Peggy’s voice, hated that it was him hurting her this way.  But they hadn’t been in a relationship, he’d never let things get that far, couldn’t.  Neither had she, whether out of deference to his wishes or because it would have been wholly inappropriate he wasn’t sure.  Many women lost the men that they loved.  Families lost husbands, brothers and sons, this was war and it wasn’t pretty, it was filled with loss and devastation.  She would find someone else, he knew that.  She would settle down and have a family and all the things that he couldn’t bring himself to offer her.   

Steve looked at her picture as he went down, remembering her courage.   

Even as he looked her features blurred before him and he was picturing Bucky there, a slight smile just curving his lips, grey gaze steady and filled with warm amusement, just the way that he remembered him.  

His fault.  

The pain of the impact felt like a strange kind of absolution.  

The icy waters that closed over him were so cold that it was like a new type of pain, the darkness mimicking that of the river he had watched Bucky falling towards.  There was some kind of strange symmetry there that he had no time to think about.  This was the end and in his final moments, he embraced it.    

**Ageless**

He woke up.  

Again.  

Didn’t know who he was.  

Didn’t know where he was.  

Looking at his hands stretched before him, one gleaming metal and one flesh and blood he wasn’t sure what he was.  

Slowly bits began to filter back to him, enough information.  

He was the Winter Soldier.  

He could remember cold and the snow and a flame haired woman that he thought he might have loved, as much as he could love anyone, that she had loved him as much as she could.  The scientists had taken so much of that from them both.  

He remembered the fire of the serum that had burned through his veins making him into more than he had been before, amplifying it all.  That made a memory prickle at his mind but it slid from his grasp even as he tried to catch at it like mist burning away in the sun.  

He remembered the feel of a gun in his hand, remembered the way that a knife felt as it slipped through flesh.  

He remembered death after death.  

Decade after decade.  

He was the Winter Soldier.  

**Ageless**

Sun filtered through the windows, falling across his face, turning the world to a warm glow behind his eyelids.  He could hear the familiar crackling of a radio, half listened to it as he opened his eyes.  Some baseball game.

He couldn’t place where he was, then he remembered.  

Crashing the plane.  

Freezing dark water.  

He let out a slow breath.  They’d found him and he was guessing that this was a hospital somewhere.  That made some kind of sense.  

Except that game.  

There was something not quite right something that didn’t quite… the thoughts wouldn’t come to him, things still slightly fuzzy until it snapped into his mind.  

That game had happened.

He’d been there.  

He and Bucky had been there, watching it, shouting, hollering and eating corn dogs together, before they had gone to war, before any of it had ever happened.  He remembered it like it was yesterday and that meant…

Steve felt suddenly short of breath in the way that he had been when he was an asthmatic child, in a way he hadn’t felt since the serum had blazed through him.  

He had to get out of there, had to find out what the hell was going on.  The nurse, he couldn’t focus on, burst out of the room, couldn’t even really hear what she said, what he said in return.  He just ran.  Ran out into the streets and everything was different, everything had changed.  The world had changed and the streets were filled with cars and signs and hustle and bustle like he had never seen before.  This was New York, but it wasn’t his city.   

An icy chill ran through him and he felt as though he might be sick.  

A man stood before him.  Told him where he was.  When he was.  

The future.  

The war was over.  

Everyone he knew would be dead.   

He was alone in this new world.  

**Ageless**

The Chitauri invaded and in a way Steve welcomed it.  He did not welcome the death and the destruction.  But he did welcome the chance to be part of a team once again, to feel something, to feel as though he was alive and not just some relic out of time and out of place.  

He welcomed the chance to be part of something that kept him away from his own thoughts, to be around people who didn’t treat him like he was anything particularly special.  The Agents at SHIELD had been good to him, but they had treated him as though he was a prized possession to be taken care of but never allowed out.  

He was still just a man, still just Steve Rogers, the guy from Brooklyn who had gone to war with his friend and had woken up in another century, confused, grieving and entirely out of place.  

The invasion gave his life a direction and a purpose.  

It gave him a team and friends and people that he could depend on and it made him realise that actually, there was perhaps a place for him in this century, he could make himself a place, carve out a niche for himself and could live there.  

After the invasion, after the dust had settled he joined SHIELD as an Agent, worked alongside Natasha and Clint, let them help him in the new century.  Became firm friends with them both, watched the way that they loved each other, the way they were partners and lovers and it was a bond that made him ache for Bucky in a way he didn’t think would ever fade away.   

The pain left, although the dull ache didn’t.   

Clint showed him around, reminded him of Bucky in ways that made him smile, made him laugh, was completely irreverent and wholly himself.  He had a dark sense of humour and a skewed sense of humour and Steve couldn’t help himself laughing at it all.  He had suffered under Loki and Steve could see that, helped as much as he could, although he knew that Natasha was the reason that Clint was still there with them, hadn’t given up.  She was his beacon, his shining light in the darkness and it was plain to everyone 

As the next couple of years rolled by he found his old griefs became duller, the memories more bittersweet than actively painful as he thought of his old friends.  

Clint became himself once again, fun loving and easy going on the surface, incredibly sharp and focussed beneath.  Steve learnt about Natasha, about where she had come from, what she had experienced, learnt her history as she told it to him and he realised that he wasn’t so badly off, not really.  Every single one of them had trauma in their past, had loss and heartbreak and that they were still all there together, still fighting, still working to keep the world safe.  

It gave him faith in humanity once again.   

**Ageless**

Natasha’s face had gone pale when he had described his assailant.  She had known him in the Red Room, had been trained by him.  He loved him to the extent that they were able.  Now that man, the Winter Soldier had come here to kill him.  

SHIELD had given them the order to take him down by any means necessary.  

Natasha had nodded, her face completely set, showing no emotion.  With Clint out of the country on another mission he was teamed up with her to go after the Soldier, to take him out before he killed Steve.  

Natasha had looked at him, dead in the eyes, said that she owed the Soldier a debt, a chance.  He had meant a lot to her a long time ago, was no more in control of what he did than she had been when Clint had brought her in.  

Steve had promised he would give the man a chance if he could.  

There was something about him that had Steve shaken, something he couldn’t quite place, that he shook off as unease that the Soldier was that fast, that strong, that he could do things that no normal man could.  Natasha explained about the serum that he had been given by the Russians and that made sense.  During the war everyone had wanted a piece of the serum that flowed in Steve’s veins, and like Erskine had fled, other scientists would have fled from Germany in all directions, taking their research with them.  

That helped.  

Until he was pursuing the soldier across rooftops and through buildings.  He burst through a window, glass shattering around him, threw his shield full force.  If the man had the same serum he did it wouldn’t kill him but it would incapacitate him.  

Instead the soldier turned and looked dead at him.  

Steve felt the breath freeze in his lungs.  

Barely caught the shield that was flung back at him.  

Stood stock still, staring as the Soldier disappeared over the edge of the roof.  

Natasha came through the window.  “You let him go?”  Her words were harsh and accusing and Steve shook his head, dropping his shield with a harsh clang.  He bent over, hands on his knees, gulping in air.  He felt her hand rest on his back between his shoulder blades.  “Cap, Steve, what is it?”  Her voice was no longer accusing, instead it was concerned.  

He straightened up, feeling as though he was shaking all over.  “It was Bucky.”  He stated, the words hanging in the air between them.  “Bucky is the Winter Soldier.”  

“How can you be sure?  He’s wearing a mask and you haven’t seen him in seventy years.”  Her voice was sceptical, and Steve could understand why, but he knew those eyes as well as he knew his own, above the mask and smeared with black he still knew them.  He seen the look there, the utter agony and the gleam of tears.  

“It hasn’t been seventy years for me.  It’s been two.”  He replied, voice low, shifting so his back was against the brick of the wall by the window.  “And I would know his eyes everywhere.  Natasha, I grew up with him, we went to war together, we…”

“You loved each other.” She said, eyes widening for an instant as she looked at him, reading his face, suddenly open and vulnerable.  

Steve nodded mutely, gathering himself together.  “He knew me then, just now.  He knew what he was doing and couldn’t stop.”  

Natasha scrubbed a hand over her face.  “His programming is breaking down.  Which is good.  But it means he’s beginning to get memories back and he’s trapped in himself, watching what he’s doing.  We need to bring him in.  Now.”  

Steve nodded, gritting his teeth.  “Let’s go and get him.”   

**Ageless**

Bucky sat in silence in the isolation room at SHIELD, wearing standard SHIELD issue clothing.  It had been eight weeks since they had brought him in.   

Eight weeks since he had seen anyone who was not one of the medical or psych team.  

Eight weeks since he had tried to kill Steve.  

Eight weeks since he had been given his memories back.  

Eight weeks in a room where everything was part of the room, where there was nothing he could use to try and kill himself.  

He didn’t want to do that but the team didn’t believe him.   

His mind still felt like a patchwork that was full of holes, where things didn’t quite make sense, where things were still tangled in places, but it was all straightening out, he remembered everything and the order was slowly falling into place.  He had seen Natasha, had spoken to her, had let her tell him what had happened to her, what had happened to the world and to Steve, had spent hours speaking with him in her soft, liquid Russian and he knew that she understood.  

She had said that Steve wanted to see him.  

He hadn’t been able to face him.  Not Steve who was a good man, honestly and truly a good man  in a way that most weren’t.  He had done horrendous things, things that he hated to think about himself, let alone let Steve know about.  It felt as though he was tearing himself in two but it was easier than the alternative.  That Steve was here in this life, was happy, had friends, had a life, that was enough for him.  

Vaguely he wondered what would happen when they cleared him to leave their custody.  Fury and Coulson had asked him to join the organisation and he was considering it.  At least he could use his skills for something useful.  Wiping out the red in his ledger Natasha had called it and it made a kind of sense to him.  

He picked up a book, one that he had been allowed in there, and remained sitting on the bed, reading.  Anything to pass the time.  

The soft swish of the door opening made him look up.  

Steve stood there.  

Steve stopped dead in the doorway, stared at Bucky as though seeing him for the first time.  He was pale under the fluorescent lights, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep.  The black he wore made his skin look almost translucent and Steve felt something catch in his throat.  His hands were closed around a book, one dully gleaming metal, the other flesh and blood, knuckles white where he was gripping so hard.  He was more muscular than Steve remembered, but that was probably the serum.  His hair had been cut short again, the way it used to be and Steve snapped himself out of  his stupor as Bucky stood up.  

“Steve, what are you doing here?”  He asked, voice sounding rusty as if he barely used it.  

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?  Jesus, Bucky…”  He crossed the room in a few strides, pulling Bucky into a tight hug, emotion flooding through him like a tidal wave, crashing across him.  

Bucky froze for a split second, Steve felt the way he stiffened before he suddenly relaxed, hugging Steve back, tight, his breathing hitching slightly.  Sure the feeling of cold metal on one side where there had once been warmth was different, but the way that he felt against Steve hadn’t changed, hell, even the way he smelt hadn’t changed and as Steve pulled back he couldn’t help a soft chuckle.  

Bucky shook his head, staring straight at Steve, mouth set in a hard line.  “Steve, you shouldn’t be here.”  He said.  

“The way you hugged me then tells a different story.”  

“You don’t know what I’ve done Steve.”  Replied Bucky, taking a pace backwards, booted feet scuffing on the floor slightly.  

Steve shrugged.  “I know exactly what you’ve done.  I’ve read the files.  I’ve spoken to Natasha.  Do you really think that I give a goddamn about that?  You wouldn’t have chosen to do that.  It wasn’t something you ever wanted so why the hell would I hold it against you?  You know me better than that.”  He stated, voice low and fervent, desperate for Bucky to understand, for him to understand that Steve couldn’t ever hold those things against him.  That he didn’t care, that he knew the man behind the history that that was all he ever wanted.  

Bucky scrubbed on hand over his face, through his hair.  “Shit.”  He muttered.  “Shit, shit, shit.  I’ve missed you.”  He finally said, unable to take his gaze off Steve, still finding it hard to believe that they were still both there after all the years and after all they had been through.  He shook his head, biting his lip slightly.  “The hell were you thinking ditching that plane?”  He demanded suddenly.  

Steve stared at him then choked back a laugh.  “I was thinking of you, jerk.  Thinking of you the whole damn way down and how I was an idiot for screwing up Peggy’s life, and how much I missed you because it was my damn fault that you had died.”  There was a layer of self-loathing in his voice that Bucky had never heard before and it hit him like a slap to the face.   

“Don’t you dare…”  

“I’m sorry Buck.  It was my damn fault.  You saved me, again and you paid the price for it…”  

The fist that connected to the side of his face made him stumble sideways, eyes wide, and when he looked back to Bucky he could see that he was standing, fists clenched at his sides, a look of utter anger on his face that Steve hadn’t seen in a long time.  Vaguely he reflected that he was lucky that Bucky had chosen to hit him with his right hand.  “If I ever, ever hear you say that again I am going to do worse than just hit you.”  He growled.  “None of that, none of that was your fault.  Shit, Steve, if you believe that… No.  Just don’t.”   

Sirens were going off in the background and Bucky frowned.  “Goddamn cameras.”  He snarled.  “We’ll have company in a minute.”  

On cue the door opened and armed Agents stood in the doorway.  Silently Steve stepped in front of Bucky.  “Stand down.”  His voice was firm, controlled.  

“We need to…”  Began one of them, but Steve silenced them with a look.  

“You don’t need to do a damn thing.  You need to leave.”  He stated.  

“Sir, with all due respect the subject attacked you.”  

“The subject?”  Steve could feel anger of his own bubbling beneath his skin.  “The subject is Sergeant James Barnes and if I can’t take a hit from my best damn friend because he thinks I’m being an idiot that’s my problem not yours.  Believe me, if he wanted to attack me he would have done a lot more damage than that.  Now.  Get.  Out.”  

There was muttered discussion before they withdrew and Steve turned to see Bucky laughing silently behind him.  “Fuck…”   

“You’re an idiot you know that?”  Asked Steve, looking at him levelly.  

“Sure, you told me I was taking all the stupid with me.”  Replied Bucky easily.  “Seriously though Steve, don’t blame yourself.”  

“Hard not to but if you stop blaming yourself for things you did when you were brainwashed I’ll give it a try.”  

“That’s blackmail, punk.”  

“It’s fine when the subject’s a jerk like you.”  Retorted Steve.  

Bucky looked at him, a slightly questioning look, his gaze flicking up to the cameras and Steve shrugged.  “Buck, I do not care about that right now.  This day and age people don’t have to hide anymore.”  

Bucky didn’t reply, instead grabbed Steve, pulling him into a kiss, hard and hungry.  Steve felt Bucky’s fingers against his back, digging in, and he grabbed him back, knowing he didn’t have to hold back anymore, worry about hurting him.  It was rough and it was harsh and when they broke apart both were gasping for air.  “I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“When you get out of here I’ve got an apartment in the old neighbourhood.”  Offered Steve with a sudden grin, feeling as though his world was slotting back into place once more.  

Bucky nodded, drawing in a slow breath.  “That would be good.  I shouldn’t have hit you though...I just…"

Steve shrugged.  “It’s not like I can’t take it.”

“That’s not the point.”  Replied Bucky, jaw tight, muscle twitching slightly as he fought to keep down the anger that had blazed up again.  

“It is the point.  It’s not you, it’s not the way you’ve ever been.”  Steve swallowed.  “I’ve been talking to Natasha.  She said that it was a side effect of the brainwashing and their removing the triggers from your mind.  Sudden uncontrollable rage and violence.  It’s not, not you Buck.”  He knew that, knew damn well that was not Bucky.  Could see just how hard he was holding back at that moment.  

Bucky turned suddenly, burying his fist in the wall.  He stood for a few seconds completely still, taking slow breaths.  “I’m sorry.”  He muttered, slumping down on the bed, the rage dying away within seconds.  “I’m sorry Steve.  She’s right.  I have no control at the moment.  Why the hell do you think I’m still in here?”  

Steve shook his head, sitting down next to him on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, knee pressed up against Bucky’s, keeping contact with him.  “Buck, that isn’t gonna push me away.  I don’t give a damn what you’ve done, I don’t give a damn that you have no control at the moment.  If you lash out at me, then I’m one of the few people who can still put you on your ass.”  

There was a brief pause as Bucky sat in silence, staring at the floor, hands palm up in his lap.  He could feel the flash of anger leaving him, forcing himself back in control.  He looked across at Steve. “My mind’s full of holes, Stevie, bits keep disappearing, feels like a patchwork or some shit that I can’t always get a grasp on.  Natasha says it gets better but, it’s gonna take a while.” He gave Steve a slightly crooked smile, grey eyes showing a flash of warmth as Steve met his gaze.  

It was exactly what Natasha had told him it would be like, and Steve was damn glad that she had warned him, let him know what to expect from Bucky, what he would be like.  Steve nudged Bucky’s shoulder with his own.  “You’re a damn idiot you know that?  I’m not goin’ anywhere, doesn’t matter how long it takes.”  

“Not without you.”  Murmured Bucky, his voice low, but enough that Steve could still hear him.  

Steve felt a wrenching in his gut at the words, at the memories they evoked and he took Bucky’s hand in his, squeezing it tight.  “You got it.”  

**Ageless**

It was late summer, the city hot and stifling, a breeze just taking the edge off, stopping it feeling suffocating.  Bucky had finally been completely cleared by SHIELD, had undergone field agent testing and had been placed on the active duty roster alongside Steve.  It had been a long four months, but finally he was free once again.  

He walked with Steve to the main doors of the building, ignoring the stares of the agents that they passed.  He could feel the hostility in their gazes, couldn’t blame them, not after what he’d done.  A lot of people had died because of his actions, people that they’d known, that they’d worked with.  If they weren’t hostile towards him he would have thought there was something wrong.  He could almost feel Steve bristling beside him, defensive, glaring at the agents who were staring with open anger on their faces.  

Steve couldn’t help the anger he felt towards those who were staring at Bucky with undisguised disgust.  He’d been brainwashed.  Had no choice in his actions, had been a weapon to be pointed and set off.  He could feel his hands curling into fists at his sides until he felt Bucky bump their shoulders together, the simple action forcing him to relax, to keep on walking. It felt so natural, walking in sync with Bucky again, side by side like they had so many times over the years.  It was just so achingly familiar for a second Steve felt his breath catch in his throat before he pulled himself together.  

They reached the doors in silence, stepping out into the heat and bustle of the New York streets.  Going from the cool air conditioning into the summer heat was like walking into an oven, the kind of hot day that seemed to suck the air from their lungs until they both adjusted.  Bucky pulled shades down over his eyes, not used to the brightness after four months locked down inside the base.  “Lead the way then, punk.  And get a move on because it’s goddamn hot out here and you might be in a t-shirt but I’m wearin’ a damn jacket.”  He didn’t really want to wander the streets without one, he’d also got a flesh coloured glove that passed anything but the closest inspection.  People remembered what the Winter Soldier had done, it had been on every news channel coast to coast.  He had no desire to let them know who he was.  

Steve chuckled.  “Sure.  We’ll take the subway.”

“That’ll be fun.”  Retorted Bucky.  “Because I haven’t spent enough time below ground recently.”

“Nothing’s good enough for you huh, Buck?”  Asked Steve as they began walking down the street together, blending into the crowd without too much difficulty, barely garnering a second glance from anyone.  That was one of the things that Steve liked about his uniform.  The fact that his face was mostly covered, and nobody expected to see Captain America wandering around the streets in jeans and a well worn old t-shirt.  

“Yeah I’m real hard to please.”  Retorted Bucky rolling his eyes.  “It’s fine, we’ll take the subway.  Whatever’s quickest.”  At that point he didn’t really care.  He just wanted to get away from SHIELD, gain some distance, a sense of normality until he was called in to go to work.  He wanted to get back to the apartment, get comfortable, and get to spend time with Steve when they didn’t have constant cameras on them, SHIELD watching his every move.  Sure he understood why he’d had to go through it, knew that he wouldn’t have stood a chance without SHIELD’s help in regaining his memories and everything that went along with it, but it didn’t mean that the constant surveillance hadn’t irked him, the imprisonment grating on him until all he craved was the air and the sky.  

The city hadn’t changed much since he’d last been there on a mission in the early nineties.  Hadn’t really changed that much since the forties.  Not in essence.  It was still the same living breathing city that he had known all his life.  It was good that some things changed but retained what they truly were beneath it all, a stable influence when everything else around tended to be explosive and fluid.  

When they reached the apartment in Brooklyn he burst out laughing.  So close to their old neighbourhood and so damn familiar.  Steve looked slightly sheepish, raising his hand to rub the back  of his neck slightly awkwardly.  “Jerk.”  He muttered, shoving Bucky towards the stairs that led up to the top floor apartment.  

Inside it was spartan, simple but comfortable and so entirely Steve that Bucky couldn’t help shaking his head slightly as Steve closed the door behind them.  Bucky stripped off his glove and jacket and kicked off his boots, leaving them in a heap by the door, his concession to tidiness being to drape his jacket over the back of a chair.  

This was home.  

There was no question about it.  The apartment, New York, Brooklyn, Steve, it was home.  

“There’s beer in the fridge and I know a good place to go for a drink.”  Steve’s voice was low and warm and Bucky could feel a familiar smirk pulling up the corners of his lips as he heard it, the sound sliding through him like a shot of old whiskey.  

“Take me to it.  After though, I’m takin’ you into that bedroom and we are not gonna be comin’ out for a good few hours.”  

Steve grinned broadly, nodding enthusiastically and pulled some beers from the fridge, tossing a couple to Bucky before thrusting a few in his pockets, heading for the window. 

It took them seconds to get out onto the fire escape and pull themselves up onto the roof.  The access would have been impossible for most people, but they weren’t most people, they were different, had been for a very long time.  

Silently they both walked across the flat roof to sit by the brick stack that housed the maintenance passageway, the whole warmed by the day’s sun.  Bucky flicked open two beers, handing one over to Steve, the pull of memory like a physical thing as they sat there side by side.

“S’been a long road.”  Murmured Steve, raising his bottle in a silent toast.  

Bucky raised his, clinking  them together before taking a long swallow of beer.  “Sure has.”  He replied, a wealth of feeling in his words.  He stared up at the sky for a few instants, just revelling in the feeling of the sun on his face, the air surrounding him warm and natural, no longer the air conditioning.  

Steve looked at him, studying him as he sat there, sunglasses discarded beside him, face turned up to the sky.  The sun gleamed in his dark hair, made his pale skin show even paler from the months without light.  There were still dark circles under Bucky’s eyes but they were fading, he was looking one hell of a lot better than  he had.  

Bucky could feel Steve’s gaze on him.  “What’re you lookin’ at?”  

“Just some guy.”  Replied Steve with a chuckle.  

“Just some guy?”  Bucky grinned, looking at him then pulled him in for a kiss.  He tasted salt and sweat, beer and the heat of summer and they broke apart smiling and truly relaxed for the first time in months.  “Just some guy?”

“My guy.”  Said Steve firmly, ignoring the way that Bucky rolled his eyes.  

“You’re still a punk you know that right?”

“Mmm.  And you’re a jerk.  S’why we work well.”  Replied Steve comfortably.  He looked at Bucky seriously, blue eyes meeting grey.  “We’ve come home, Buck.”  

“Yeah.  Yeah we really have.”  Bucky swallowed, hearing the emotion in Steve’s voice.  

“I love you, you know that right?  I don’t know, I can’t remember if we ever said that?”  

Bucky shrugged.  “We never needed to.  What we got Steve, it’s more than love.  It’s, shit it’s something that goes deeper than that.  But yeah, yeah I love you too.”  He replied, shifting slightly as he felt Steve’s hand come to rest on his thigh, warm through the denim of his jeans.  He let his own hand rest on top, taking his beer in the metal one.  

Together they lapsed into a comfortable silence, two lovers, two heroes, two soldiers, two boys from Brooklyn finally home.  

  
  



End file.
